<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Night She Leaves by FallingFaintly</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29997792">The Night She Leaves</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingFaintly/pseuds/FallingFaintly'>FallingFaintly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Gen, Missing Scene</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:22:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>953</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29997792</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingFaintly/pseuds/FallingFaintly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Cormoran worries for Robin after a phone call.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Matthew Cunliffe/Robin Ellacott, Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Night She Leaves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Strike's perspective on the time between his phone call interrupting her leaving Matt and their meeting at the police station the following morning.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Strike realized after the line beeped as the call ended that there had been the smallest trace of tension even in her normal greeting. Of course the sound of Matt’s angry shouting down the line as he had obviously snatched the phone from her made clear that all was not well, but Strike still pondered over that tiny, tiny inkling he had when she first answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All was not well. He had been observing the trappings of her married life with a curious eye for some time now, with an envy he didn’t want to examine too closely. The nice house, the anniversary weekend away, his suspicion that she was expecting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It all dropped away at the sound of Matthew’s sweary dismissal and Robin’s composed retrieval of the bones of his reason for calling in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is everything all right?” he had asked, and he heard the tremor in his own voice. It was a reasonable question in the circumstances, of course, and only polite to ask. But the wobble in the words came from instincts long honed by experience, of picking up the tone in women’s voices when they were trying to de-escalate angry men, and he was suddenly afraid for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was capable, of course she was. She had survived dreadful things by her wits and tenacity; she had fought off a serial killer, she was tough. But she was a woman, and he needed no extra prompting to know how vulnerable she was by virtue of her sex alone, however many other admirable qualities she possessed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More than this, she was Robin, and he wasn’t just afraid for the safety of any woman here, but the woman he relied on, the most important one in his life; his partner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at the phone anxiously when the line went dead as she cut the call. He couldn’t phone back, obviously. Whatever was going on, she was trying to maintain control and having to field phone calls from him wouldn’t help her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strike swallowed and returned to making tea, looking at the phone again briefly and then slipping it back in his pocket. She was with Matthew, at home. She sounded in possession of herself, angry, focused, direct.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How much danger could she be in?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Strike regretted asking the question. He knew the answer. It prickled in the back of his mind as he remembered her wedding, and the moment he had pieced together her response to finding out she had missed his calls, and all the tension of that day. The way she had gone back to Matthew in the first place, even after finding out about his previous infidelity to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was a confident, smart woman, but Strike was only too aware that this was no protection against abuse. Had he been missing more as he nursed his own melancholy? He realized his heart was beating faster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew how many women were attacked and killed by their partners, and the knowledge thumped against his consciousness for the rest of the evening, not abating while he ate, or showered, or got into bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lay in bed, looking at his phone, scrolling through the calls list and looking at the time he called her and repeatedly cross referencing it back to the digital display in the corner of the screen. She’d phone him if there was a problem. She would.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What if he stopped her? What if he’d taken the phone from her again? What if he’d overpowered her and lost it and…?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Strike closed his eyes and brought the phone to his lips, pushing those thoughts away. They wouldn’t help. He’d just phoned in the middle of an argument. Just an embarrassing stumble into an intimate moment between lovers, dealt with by stepping back out again and letting them work it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What if they don’t work it out? What if they’re breaking up?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Strike barely let himself indulge that thought. If he was able to squash down the sudden frantic worry that she might be in danger, he was certainly able to keep the faint hope that she would leave Matthew at bay, because that thought wasn’t sudden, that one had been lingering for a very long time, and he was well practised at shutting it down.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fell asleep with the phone still in his hand, just in case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The following morning, he had made his way to wait outside the police station for their meeting with DCI McMurran. She was late. Strike watched the IRVs going in and out of the gates, his nerves on edge. It wasn’t like her to be late. Something was wrong. He’d give it a little longer, and then he was going to have to phone her, reticent respect for privacy or no.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lit another cigarette and smoked, his eyes searching the street for a glimpse of red-gold hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am so sorry,” she said, appearing beside him. He looked at her in surprise. She looked tired and drawn, but she was safe. She sighed and adjusted her bag on her shoulder as he looked at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything all right?” He repeated the question from the night before, no tremulous fear in his voice now she was standing right here, whole and healthy at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah, good to go,” she said, briskly dismissive, but he wasn’t convinced. He looked at her for a long moment, trying to read her expression, his hand holding his coat closed against the chill. She stood impassive, and he decided to leave it, and let her come to him if she needed to. It had worked so far. He could see no danger in leaving it as it was.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>